


This Road We Take

by karuvapatta



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Family Feels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:56:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war with Jotunheim, Odin brings home more than he expected, and Frigga finds out that the ability to see the future has its disadvantages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Road We Take

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired partially by my many, many feels about Asgard's royal family, and partially by the fact that in the myths, Frigga is apparently the goddess of foreknowledge. Which is like, the worst superpower ever.

The strangest part was how good it felt to see him again.

Frigga greeted him in the Bifrost observatory, with no-one but Heimdall to witness their reunion – and the Sentry was kind enough to turn the other way. As ever, she disliked coming here, for the sheer pressure of the void was unsettling. The feeling faded though when Odin took her in his embrace. His strength and his determination were what she was trying to bury herself in, so that she could be shielded from what was to come.

But the moment passed, and he let go. He was gentle, mindful of the bundle lying in his arms – a source of soft whimpers. The Bifrost had no doubt taken its toll on the fragile little life. She would reach for it, but was distracted by the sight of Odin's face.

He smiled at her, such as she had never seen him smile at anything else. She was smiling herself, overjoyed, even as she raised her fingers to the dressing covering his right eye—what used to be his right eye. 

War demanded sacrifice. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

"You do not seem surprised to see me, my Queen," Odin said.

"I had no reason to doubt you would emerge victorious," she said. "My King."

The bundle in Odin's arms chose this moment to start wailing. The shock must have had worn off and the poor thing began to realize how far away from home it had wandered. She took him without prompting. The blankets were still chilly to the touch, peppered with tiny snowflakes, but the baby inside them was pink and warm. She caressed its little face and saw tear-filled green eyes focus on her – a stranger. Possibly dangerous.

She hugged him closer and rocked him in her arms. He was smaller than Thor had been, but just as keen to quieten when she began to sing softly – a song of peace and soothing, with gibberish lyrics but a melody that pleased the baby. Soon enough tiny hands were reaching up, tangling in an errant lock of her hair.

"He's a shape-shifter, isn't he?" she said. 

Odin nodded. "And a son of Laufey."

That made her look up.

"Won't he be missed?" she asked. It was true the small and defenceless suffered most in times of war, but the disappearance of a prince would not go unnoticed.

"They abandoned him before we took their temple," Odin said calmly. "If Laufey has objections, he should have voiced them beforehand."

"So Laufey lives," she said, thoughtful. The child pulled on her hair – she had forgotten how strong babies were, for such small creatures. Seeing her wince, Odin smiled and gently eased the lock of her hair from the tiny fist, only to hold it in his own fingers.

"He does, but the Casket is ours, his army is destroyed and his cities lie in ruins. And his child—" Odin's lips pressed together and he frowned. She gave him time to form his thoughts, and almost shivered at the dark note in his voice. "I would never have abandoned you like that – neither you, nor Thor. Not for anything."

She wanted to smile, hearing his conviction. He was earnest – or at the very least, he believed himself to be. However—

He was King, first and foremost. She would not let herself forget that.

"What of the child?" she asked instead, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, I do not presume to know," Odin smiled slightly. "But would my Queen say there's room enough in our halls for another Odinson?"

"You would take him as your own?" she asked.

Over the weeks of solitude she had forgotten how perceptive Odin could be to her moods. He looked at her now, the sharpness of his gaze not diminished for the lack of one eye.

"I would, and I have," he said, slowly. "Unless—"

The child wailed, with all the force of its lungs, and Frigga was startled into laughter. She rocked him, and sang to him, until his crying subsided.

"I think the Son of Odin is hungry," she said, smiling. "We had better see to it." 

***

Thor approached his brother with the same unquestioning enthusiasm he had for most things in life. Nowadays, he never seemed happier than when he was permitted to play with Loki. And for all of how little Loki yet understood of the world, he was perfectly happy to laugh along when Thor did, even if the reasons eluded him.

Frigga sat at her loom in the gardens while Odin watched over the boys. That is – and she couldn't help but smile – while Odin fretted over the two of them while Thor was trying to teach Loki how to walk. It wasn't often that Odin had time for his children and she was content to let him make the most of it. Even if he seemed awkward and clumsy, unused to the company of people too young to cower before Gungnir's authority, she refrained from making comments or offering advice. And, well – she'd be lying if she claimed the sight wasn't equal parts charming and amusing.

Her fingers skimmed over the half-finished tapestry. It was one she began during the war with Jotunheim, when the weight of state affairs and solitary rule grew to be too much. There was no image there save for a nonsensical swirl of colourful patterns against the black background – patterns that had seemed to flow through her and emerge from beneath her fingers without conscious thought.

When she realized what she had been doing – what she _saw_ \- Frigga buried the tapestry under layers of other abandoned projects and tried to make herself forget.

But that was months ago. She was calmer, now, her life slotting itself back together, with the unexpected new addition. And since Asgard's fury had spent itself, her enemies soundly defeated, the Aesir could go back to enjoying the slow rhythm of their lives. Tides would arise, eventually, and they would march off again, but she supposed it was inevitable. All things followed certain—

Patterns. The Universe was rife with patterns, visible only to those who weren't afraid to look. The threads began somewhere and journeyed through the realms, crossing and swirling and interwoven, each one singular, no two the same. 

She tugged gently on a red silky thread and closed her eyes. The chatter in the background faded, Odin's gentle chiding, Thor's laughter, Loki's attempts at speaking – and her mind was lost among the stars, with the single strand to guide her.

First was the present – the image as it was now. That was Heimdall's strength, and Odin's, not her own. She could only see the small picture, whatever was visible to naked eye – but what she could do, and they couldn't, was pick up individual threads and follow them…

The past, then. Beginnings. Tricky, but not impossible.

Moving her fingers helped. She was weaving again. Once you observed the length of the thread, saw the unravelling colours and patterns—you could follow them. All the way, from beginning the end, back and forth through time. 

It felt very much like encountering a shallow stream and expecting to find out about the sea. Pure guesswork, in the end – but sometimes, she could guess right—

The tapestry wove itself, her fingers moving of their own volition. She felt dread in the pit of her stomach, growing stronger with every emerging shape. It seemed like they were getting feebler the further she went, swallowed by the surrounding void.

"Are you troubled, my Queen?" Odin's gentle voice shook her out of her concentration. She shivered when she felt his hands cover hers – he was kneeling before her, frowning. Somewhere behind him, Thor and Loki were building a castle out of colourful blocks.

She sighed. 

"I am," she said. "Loki's future—"

Odin squeezed her fingers reassuringly. "You have told me yourself that your visions are imprecise. Whatever you saw may not come to pass."

"I saw nothing specific," Frigga said. "Save that there will be a lot of pain in his life."

"There's pain in every life," Odin said carelessly. "Why should we waste our time worrying about it? He will be safe and he will be loved. Whatever comes, we will handle it."

"I know that," she said, and forced herself to smile. "But tell me – if you knew of a tragedy, and knew it was inevitable—"

"It would change nothing," he said, staring deep into her eyes. His voice was very quiet. "I may not have your gift but I have seen your work, my love. So let me tell you: whatever that future is, I would not sacrifice a single day of our lives together to prevent it."

He was tired of war and loss, and she knew that. But still she accepted his words, for all they held more fragile hope than common sense.

She kissed her husband and startled when she heard a soft patter of footsteps – Thor was holding his brother's hands, helping him walk towards them. Loki's face was twisted in concentration, but he lit up when he saw her.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, and would have fallen down in his excitement had Thor not caught him. She rushed over to hug them both, and drew Loki up in her arms, pressing kisses to his laughing face.

"I'm here, darling," she said. "I'm here."

It was so hard to believe that Loki's fate was as bleak as she saw it. And perhaps – perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps all would be well.

It was a nice lie, Frigga thought. Worth believing in.


End file.
